


Remembrance

by lebedeinetraume



Category: To the Ends of the Earth
Genre: Age of Sail, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lebedeinetraume/pseuds/lebedeinetraume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund's health has been deteriorating due to frequent restless nights but he is soon visited by a friend he thought deceased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of this story! The characters and the setting belongs to William Golding, author of "To the Ends of the Earth". I am making no money off of this nor do I ever intend to!

Sleep did not come easily to Edmund Talbot these long nights, and as he crawled beneath the covers he tried to rest a mind that could not find a safe harbour from the nightmares that had plagued him during the day. Wherever Edmund turned for respite, memories were abound. From looking at the sea, so placid on that fine weather day, the many experiences on that fateful journey to Sydney Cove crept into his mind and reminded him of the burden that he still carried with him. From the Parson Colley who met such a tragic death, his spirit forever quelled by the shame sprouted from a moment of explicit indiscretion to the horrific, gory end of the poor steward, Wheeler.

Blood sloshed across the damp sand of his mind, reaching for any piece dry land that Edmund tried to reside in and ensnaring it within its merciless flood. Nothing was safe. Not even the comfort of others, so tender and full of care, could ease the pain in Edmund’s mind. Though some tried many times to thwart the nightmares that ravaged his state, no power on earth could stop the thieves of joy as the pillaged his very spirit, crushing it, leaving him weak in his bed.

The memory of that horrific fire that scarred part of his face and took from him the best friend that he had ever known pressed upon his body like a tidal surge, plunging his heart deeper into that cold sorrow where the pressure of the dark, lonely abyss mounted, and caused Edmund perpetual pain.

For a moment he had Charles; he would save him. His fingers reached desperately for his friend’s wrist, needing just one firm hold to pull him back to life. Though the flames licked his face and the unbearable heat threatened to expel all the remaining air and take him captive to the fiery pits of Hell, Edmund would not retreat nor forsake his friend. But as the heat intensified and the deck grew weaker, Charles Summers smiled calmly, serenely, claiming the last piece of dignity he had left before disappearing in a wall of raging flames.

‘No!’ Edmund found himself screaming as he jolted upright in his bed.

His body trembled without ceasing and sweat, which had been gathered upon his brow, fell down his feverish cheeks and met with his tears. How he prayed that each dream would meet with some happy result but it would seem that cruel circumstances were to befall him from now one. Edmund was furious to give in so much to this helpless feeling, but what was he to do? The more these painful memories visited him the more trapped he felt. Blood was on his hands and he could not wash them clean.

No sound advice from Mrs Prettiman would calm his nerves this cold morning. No more did he have the luxury of friendly faces. In despair Edmund collapsed upon his bed and tried to reclaim the lost breath within his heaving chest. The world had grown stale and it spun ever-round. Edmund groaned miserably, wondering how he could face the dawn, knowing how little hope he had for anything but a wretched day.

‘Mr Talbot, I do believe I have told you to try and rest,’ said a voice that Edmund recognised in an instant yet was terribly frightened to admit his surprise.

A cool, damp cloth was applied to his forehead and his damp hair was smoothed in gentle procession. Edmund felt his eyelids grow heavy but before he would allow himself to shut his eyes again, he turned them upwards to behold the one he thought lost.

‘Charles,’ murmured Edmund in a voice marked with delirium.

‘Listen, you’re going to have to keep as much liquid down as you can these next few days,’ continued Summers as though the look of surprise on Edmund’s face meant nothing to him. ‘You’re already beginning to burn up and if you keep trying to move about you’ll only make your suffering worse.’

Despite his burning head and confusion at seeing Charles alive and well before him, Edmund chuckled. That sad looking epaulet bore no sign of scorching nor did any part of the old uniform look maltreated in any form. It was as though Charles had never been in the fire at all.

‘Mr Talbot, I promise you, you’re going to be just fine.”

‘It’s Edmund.’

Charles smiled kindly at him but said nothing. He then brought Edmund’s blanket up and laid it gently upon him. When he turned to leave, panic gripped Edmund and he sized Charles by the wrist. Warmth crept back into him and pushed back the brackish water of guilt and doubt. The more Edmund held on, the more he desired correspondence. Life was returning. How could he let that go?

‘Please, stay,’ was all Edmund could ask in his quivering voice.

To this Charles frowned at him and replied, ‘I am the husband of the ship. I am required everywhere and by all.’

‘But, I, I…’ Edmund fought for his words but they were so blurry in his mind that he could do more than offer pathetic whimpers of pain. Something awful was seizing him and despite this miraculous appearance by his dear friend, he found himself succumbing to whatever was ailing him.

‘Sleep now, Edmund,’ said Charles as he parted from Edmund’s grip.

And as the vision disappeared like the sinking sun dropping beneath the ocean horizon, all Edmund could do was cry piteously until his body could bear the strain no more and cast him into a sickly slumber.


End file.
